


THE PASSION TRILOGY: Passion's Release

by roryheadmav



Series: THE PASSION TRILOGY [3]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Highlander - Freeform, M/M, Non Consensual, Prostitution, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-05-26
Updated: 1998-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-04 13:58:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roryheadmav/pseuds/roryheadmav
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Methos plans a daring rescue, Duncan and the prostitute endure sexual torture at the hands of an evil Immortal. This is the conclusion to THE PASSION TRILOGY.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

**PROLOGUE**

 

Duncan sat huddled in a corner of the attic that was his prison. He wrapped his arms around his naked form, not because he desired warmth or a welcome respite from the invisible hands that tormented his flesh. The Scot wanted comfort and, most of all, reassurance that he did the right thing.

_Take him! It's not me you want! Only he could give you pleasure! Not me!_

"NOOO!" Duncan cried out as something hard whacked his rump, driving him down to the floor. But the blows kept on coming, and all he could do was lie down and weep. He felt like a rag doll, being beaten this way and that. He felt as brittle as broken glass. The Highlander wondered if Dhonncaidh was feeling the same way. Or maybe the emotions he was experiencing were not his at all, but the hustler's.

Duncan pondered how quickly hope turned to despair. Dhonncaidh had released him, delivering him, unwilling at first, into Methos' hands. The prostitute even let him enjoy a moment's pleasure in his lover's embrace, something he has longed for quite sometime. Of course, it wasn't much of a sacrifice on Dhonncaidh's part. The hustler enjoyed the coupling, though indirectly, as much as he did. The Scot felt the love radiating from Dhonncaidh for the ancient Immortal.

So the Highlander knew how painful it was for the prostitute to lose Methos to him. Dhonncaidh didn't want to lose Duncan as well. The Scot felt it in the brief kiss they had – the longing, the loneliness. Duncan didn't want to give in, though the desire was strong. However, the hustler detected his unwillingness and it was he who pulled away. Duncan wished he had felt guilt. After all, he was practically stealing Methos away from the prostitute. Despite his anguish, Dhonncaidh accepted the inevitability of losing the Old Man, believing in the universal credo that good always triumphed over evil. It was a hollow victory, and Duncan knew it, especially since it was obvious to him that Methos loved Dhonncaidh just as deeply. Still, he couldn't find it in him to feel pity for his dark side-turned-flesh. To Duncan, the wheel of life has turned and now Dhonncaidh was paying for his sins.

Then, that car suddenly appeared. It had surprised him when, as gunshots were fired, Dhonncaidh shielded them with his body, taking a bullet in the shoulder. But his courage was for naught because Methos was shot as well, fatally. Before any of them realized what was happening, he and Dhonncaidh were abducted in broad daylight and hauled into the car, leaving the ancient dead on the sidewalk.

Duncan admitted that he was terrified during the drive, especially when the car brought them back to the red light district of Paris they had escaped from months back. Though it was Dhonncaidh who was hurt and bleeding, it was he who comforted the Scot the best he could, whispering soothing words in his ear.

"Dinna be frightened, Duncan," Dhonncaidh told him. "'Tis me Kinsey wants. I'll make him let ye gae. I swear I winna allow him ta hurt ye."

_Take him! It's not me you want! Only he could give you pleasure! Not me!_

The Highlander placed his hands over his ears, ghostly hands slapping him just as the accusing cries of his conscience pounded his heart.

Tears welling up in his eyes, he remembered arriving at the nondescript club. To Duncan, it didn't look like a club at all, more like an old building. But Dhonncaidh was terrified of it. It showed in the sudden alertness in his pain-glazed eyes. Still, the hustler mustered enough courage for both of them as their abductors led them inside.

Compared to the club's exterior, the interior revealed a gaudy facade of rooms filled with red and black curtains and stages. There was no mistaking what this place was. Going through the main showroom, where a lone stripper was practicing on stage, they were ushered up a flight of stairs at the back and brought to a small room. Seated at his desk, waiting for them, was Gilbert Kinsey.

"You're difficult to find, Dhonncaidh," he commented his mustache quirking up.

"Ye just weren't lookin' hard aneuch," Dhonncaidh answered calmly. Grinning, he asked, "Did ye miss me, Kinsey?"

Kinsey's face darkened at this query that he motioned to his men. The hustler was slammed face down onto the table, his arm twisted behind his back. Dhonncaidh gritted his teeth, feeling the pain in his shoulder. Duncan, however, only felt a dull ache in his own shoulder. Judging from the strain on the hustler's face, the Scot could see that he was trying to keep his pains from traversing the link between them, so the Scot would not feel his agony.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Kinsey eyed the bullet wound in mock concern. "I told them not to hurt you...much."

The Immortal yanked Dhonncaidh's head up and kissed him brutally. When Kinsey broke the kiss, the hustler pursed his lips together and spat in his face. Angered, he struck Dhonncaidh hard in the jaw that he fell to the floor. This time, Duncan felt the blow, his head snapping back.

Kinsey stood up and glowered at the hustler, lying at his feet. "Aren't you going to ask me how I found you?"

Laughing Dhonncaidh sat up, as he wiped the blood from his mouth. "I figured ye were goin' ta tell me anyway."

"Your friend – Jules Dordet. I thought he was a loyal employee of mine. It turned out he was more loyal to you than he was to me. What did you do, Dhonncaidh? Did you seduce him? Did he fuck your sweet ass?"

"Jules..." Dhonncaidh turned visibly pale, hearing the name of the Black bouncer. "What the hell did ye do ta him?" he demanded, the dread apparent in his voice.

"He wouldn't talk at first," Kinsey replied with infuriating casualness. "But after my men and I were through with him, he was practically singing out the address. Such a pity you won't be able to appreciate his vocal talents. Right now, poor Jules' body is lying somewhere at the bottom of the Seine."

"YE DEVIL!" Dhonncaidh leaped to his feet, hand curled up in a fist. But Kinsey kneed him in the groin. The hustler crumpled to the floor, doubled up in pain. Duncan also felt a sharp ache that he bent over. Thinking he was going to help Dhonncaidh, the men holding him yanked him back.

Kinsey clucked his tongue. "Somehow, I've lost my appeal for you, Dhonncaidh. I never thought you would have the audacity to escape from me. It doesn't matter. I have your twin to take your place. Besides, it seems he and I belong to the same species. He would prove to be more resilient than you."

Duncan gasped in shock, seeing the leer on the Immortal's face. The prospect of being a whore for all eternity revolted him.

"Leave him ou' o' this!" the prostitute snarled. "'Tis me ye want! Ye can do wha'e'er ye want wi' me! Just let Duncan gae!"

"Oh, I don't know," mused Kinsey, stroking Duncan's cheek. "There is such sweetness in him I find appealing. So virginal, though I know someone has already claimed his innocence. He's so terrified of sex, especially with a man." His hand went down to the cleft between the Scot's buttocks. "Sooo exquisitely tight! A veritable cock trap! I wouldn't mind opening your love channel again with my fist."

In his terror and panic, Duncan pointed to Dhonncaidh. _"Take him! It's not me you want! Only he could give you pleasure! Not me!"_

"Duncan?" Dhonncaidh's brown eyes were wide with shock. It was the ultimate betrayal, and Duncan felt the hustler's anguish in his own heart.

Fighting back his tears, Dhonncaidh cocked his chin up. "Duncan's right, Kinsey. Ye know tha' 'tis only I who cad please ye. I will do anythin' ye want. Let me try ta regain yer trust in me."

Then, the prostitute did a most shocking thing. Getting on his hands and knees, he crawled on all fours towards Kinsey. Bending down, Dhonncaidh pressed his lips to the toe of the evil Immortal's boot. The tears he tried so hard to hold trickled down his cheeks as he licked Kinsey's boots, lapping up his bitter tears at the same time.

"I beg ye, Kinsey," Dhonncaidh pleaded with him. "Let Duncan gae. I swear I will no' disobey ye e'er again."

Kinsey thought for a moment, relishing the sight of his favorite whore throwing himself at his mercy. Smiling, he said, "I don't want you to think that I'm an unreasonable man. I'll tell you what, Dhonncaidh. It's the Basement for you this time. I want you to serve my exclusive clientele. But I will be watching your every move. If I see you displease my customers in any way, or you are not pleasing them enough, I will take your twin." The Immortal leered at him. "And you know for a fact how difficult I am to please. Do we have a deal?"

Dropping his gaze, Dhonncaidh nodded his head.

Turning to one of his men, Kinsey ordered, "See that his wound is tended to before he is brought down to the Basement."

At this command, Dhonncaidh was pulled to his feet.

Before he was led away, the Immortal called out, "Wait!" As the prostitute looked up, he saw Kinsey walk behind the Highlander. "I just want to give you a reminder."

To Duncan's horror, the Immortal stripped him of his garments, tearing his shirt and cutting his jeans apart with a sharp dagger. Flipping the blade in his hand, Kinsey jammed the hilt into Duncan's ass. Both the Scot and the prostitute screamed in pain.

"I see you feel what is being done to the other, and vice versa," Kinsey observed aloud. "I'm keeping Duncan naked, ready for me at all times. Remember. If you should displease me in anyway..." He thrust the hilt in once more. "You'll know."

"Dhonncaidh?" Duncan whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Despite the pain of his broken heart, Dhonncaidh gave him a gentle smile. "He winna hurt ye, Duncan. I promise ye tha'!"

As the memory ended, that all too familiar pain ripped through his ass. Duncan whimpered as he propped his hands against the wall, spreading his thighs apart to ease the pain of the invisible entry.

_Dhonncaidh, I'm sorry!_ He thought for a thousandth time. But there was no reply from the hustler. Dhonncaidh was probably lost in the agony of his sufferings.

After what seemed like an eternity of torment, the blows and the thrusts ceased. Duncan lay prone on the floor, his body bruised, blood trickling down his thighs.

It was near midnight when the door to his prison opened and Dhonncaidh was pushed inside. The prostitute was battered all over, trembling violently. Because he was mortal, he was in much worse shape than the Highlander.

For a moment, their eyes met. Slowly, Duncan reached his hand out to him. Dhonncaidh, however, ignored the offered hand. Limping, he went to the farthest, darkest corner of the room. Lying down on his side, back turned to the Scot, he curled up in a fetal position and burst into heartbreaking sobs.

Duncan wanted to go to the hustler but, in his shame, he couldn't bring himself to do so.

_I've judged him to be evil,_ thought the Scot in guilt. _I wanted to be purged of him. But what have I done? Dhonncaidh tried to save me from Kinsey's clutches, and I condemned him to this...this hell. I'm the one who's evil! Not him!_

His voice sounded so loud in the silence between them. "Dhonncaidh, I'm sorry!"

Between sobs, Dhonncaidh replied brokenly, "Leave me alone, Duncan! There is nothin' for us ta talk abou'! I swear I will keep ma end o' the bargain! I winna let him abuse ye!"

"But, Dhonncaidh, I..."

"I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Duncan curled up into himself at those harsh words. In his mind, he kept on repeating over and over again, _I'm sorry, Dhonncaidh! I'm sorry I betrayed you!_

** CONTINUED IN PART ONE. **


	2. Part One

 

**PART ONE**

 

"It's about time you showed up!"

"Hey! Do you think it's easy for me to just pack up and hie off to Paris at your whim, Grandpa?" Joe Dawson declared, as he and Methos made their way through the busy throng of Notre Dame Airport. "I have a life too, you know!"

With exaggerated flair, Methos exclaimed, "Honestly, Joe, you hurt my feelings. Do I look like your grandfather? You look a hell of a lot older than I am!"

"One of the advantages of being Immortal!" the Watcher sneered at the ancient, with a bit of envy. Snorting, Joe thrust his suitcase into Methos' hands. "Here, kid! Show some kindness to your Old Man!"

As the Watcher walked off, the Real Old Guy made a face at his friend's back.

Reaching Methos' Range Rover, Joe headed straight for the front passenger seat. The ancient was about to throw the Watcher's bag into the back, but Joe cried, "Watch my suitcase! I've got my laptop in there." Getting inside, he added, "You could tell me everything on the way. You hardly made any sense on the phone."

Methos muttered several curses under his breath as he loaded the suitcase in the back. Shutting the trunk door, he got into the driver's seat and drove off.

All the way to Methos' flat, Joe listened intently to the Immortal's story, not interrupting. Even when the ancient had already ceased his narrative, the Watcher was lost in thoughtful silence. But the wrinkled frown on his brow told Methos that Joe was deeply troubled.

When they were finally in the privacy of the flat, Joe asked the inevitable question. "What is it you want me to do? It's obvious to me you didn't drag me out here just to give me a Watcher's report, absolutely bizarre and unbelievable though it may be."

"There is nothing bizarre about this, Joe," said Methos, getting two cans of beer. He handed one to the Watcher. "In a strange way, it makes perfect sense. Let's face it! We don't know everything there is to know about Immortals. I've lived for 5,000 years and I never imagined something like this could happen."

"But TWO Duncan MacLeods? Come on, Methos! Are you sure you're not high on hashish or something? Maybe you over-meditated on the lint in your belly button up in that Tibetan monastery."

"No. I've seen them before my two eyes. I talked to them." Grudgingly, the Old Man admitted, "I even made love to both of them."

"Great! That is really great!" Joe declared in exasperation. "Didn't I tell you not to lay your grubby mitts on Mac?"

"I couldn't help myself!" said Methos defensively. "I was lonely, Joe. And you were right. I DO love him."

"Which one? His good or his bad side?"

"I don't think Dhonncaidh's evil. I believe he was just as overwhelmed by the Dark Quickening as Duncan was. If it were Dhonncaidh's desire to get even with Duncan, he would've done so a long time ago. But he didn't. In fact, he tried to keep his distance. Dhonncaidh never expected to run into Duncan again."

Joe leaned into his seat and sighed. "I think it was inevitable. From the way you described both to me, one really cannot exist without the other. Dhonncaidh was placed in an even more vulnerable position because he is mortal. I'm afraid, Methos. What if Dhonncaidh dies? What's going to happen to Mac?"

The Old Man shook his head. "I don't know, and I really don't want to find out. Something must be done to bring them back together again. Right now, I don't see how we could accomplish this, especially since Duncan absolutely hates Dhonncaidh. In a way, it was his fault Dhonncaidh became a separate entity. He just couldn't accept that a part of him could be sexually attracted to another man. When Arthur Merchant and his men raped him, it was easy to pin all the blame on his dark side."

"Which brings me back to my first question – what do you want me to do?"

"I need someone to go inside Kinsey's club and scope out the place. I would do this myself if I could, but his men saw me. I need to know where Kinsey is keeping Duncan and Dhonncaidh." Methos fidgetted uncomfortably. "I would've asked someone else, someone named Jules Dordet, but…"

"But what?"

With much hesitation, Methos replied, "He's dead, Joe. The police fished his body out of the river two days ago."

Joe grimaced. "And now you're putting me in the line of fire."

"I have to know they're all right. Once I'm certain, I could figure out my next move. Would you do this for me, Joe? Please?"

"You know this is interfering," Joe stated the fact of a Watcher's position out right. "Besides, after Jakob Gollatti, Mac and I…we're really not on good terms right now."

"Joe, he's your friend," Methos insisted. "You've made exceptions in the past. Why should this be any different? He needs you. I need you."

Joe breathed in deeply. "I think I'm going to regret this."

 

 

It took Joe five days to establish contact with one of Kinsey's pimps. He told the man he wanted the best male whore the evil Immortal could give him, one who could satisfy his "special needs", and that he was willing to pay a handsome price. Thanks to Kinsey's Watcher, who was just as eager to see the Immortal lose his head, Joe learned that Kinsey has an Immortal acquaintance who avails of Kinsey's services whenever he was in Paris, which was rarely. They also do not keep close communications with each other, though the man frequently sends "clients" over to Kinsey. When he gave the Immortal's name to the pimp, the following day, the deal was made.

Soon enough, Joe found himself in Kinsey's club, sitting inside the evil Immortal's office.

"Well, Mr. Dawson," Kinsey began, lounging back into his seat. "I hear you're looking for the best whore I have to offer."

"That is correct," Joe answered simply. "Derek Chalmers spoke highly of your…services."

The Immortal formed a steeple with his hands, elbows on the armrests, as he looked at the Watcher closely. "Yes, Derek is a very good friend of mine. How is he?"

Inwardly, Joe thanked God that Chalmers' Watcher was one of the best he has out in the field. "Derek is in New York City right now, talking to some investors about the possibility of opening a resort in the Bahamas." He gave the Immortal a meaningful glance. "I believe you and Derek have discussed opening one of your clubs there."

Kinsey laughed. "Why, yes! It's true. I can't believe he's pushing through with it."

"You might hear from him very soon. Derek said he's developing a small island, exclusively for the club. He made me swear not to tell you. I think he wants to surprise you. But I just couldn't resist telling you the good news."

"And it's good news indeed! Very well, Mr. Dawson. As soon as we are finished with one final piece of business, my man here shall escort you to our suite."

Joe picked up the attaché case at his side and flipped the latches open. The Immortal smiled in satisfaction as he perused the bundles of franc notes inside.

Motioning to the man who stood in the corner, Kinsey ordered, "Escort Mr. Dawson here to our choice suite. Then, bring our best whore to him. Mr. Dawson paid us handsomely for our…services."

Nodding once, the man waved a hand to the door as the Watcher stood up. Leaving the office, the man led Joe out into the hallway and then went down a flight of stairs. The Watcher wondered if he was being taken to the dreaded Basement. However, the man suddenly went through another door on the left, though Joe noted that the stairway went further down.

The door led into a dimly lighted corridor with rooms on either side and at the far end. It was to the room at the far end where Joe was taken. When the man opened the light, the Watcher almost winced when he saw what was inside.

Aside from the huge four poster bed in the middle of the room, there were shackles mounted on one wall. A rack held a number of whips and clamps of various sizes, as well as other gruesome implements of torture. Even a leather outfit was folded neatly on the bed for Joe's use.

Eyeing the camera in the corner, Joe frowned. "Mr. Kinsey, I have specific instructions for privacy. This room will not do."

At this remark, Kinsey answered over the intercom. "Mr. Dawson, you have my word that you will be given utmost privacy,"

"I paid good money, sir. I expect my instructions to be followed to the letter."

There was an audible sigh. "Very well." Kinsey then ordered his man to remove the camera.

"Don't forget the hidden microphones."

"Remove those as well. But one last thing. I must admit I am not agreeable with this. The whore I'll be giving you…. He's been rather difficult of late. I want to be sure he behaves with you."

"Don't worry, Mr. Kinsey!" Joe assured the Immortal, tapping his cane noisily on the floor. "I have the perfect instrument to discipline a stubborn whore."

Kinsey laughed in approval. "Good show, sir! Maybe you could pound some sense into him, if you know what I mean."

"Yes," the Watcher replied, trying to control his disgust. "I certainly will."

Their brief talk ended, the man removed the hidden microphones as well and left Joe alone. Still, the Watcher searched every nook and cranny for any bugs.

As he was feeling under the bed, Joe heard the door open behind him and then click shut. His eyes widened in shock, seeing the terrified man trembling before him.

_MacLeod!_ thought Joe in horror at the sight of his best friend. _What have they done to you?_

Even MacLeod was just as stunned. Ashamed to have his good friend see him in this pitiful state, he tried desperately to cover his nakedness with his hands. But Joe already noted the bruises and healing welts on his skin. There was a wildness in his dark brown eyes as he surveyed the room.

"It's all right!" Joe mouthed the words. "I had them remove everything."

MacLeod, however, shook his head, pointing to the table. The Watcher ran his hand under the table and found a bug.

Speaking into the microphone, Joe said, "Put this on my tab!", and promptly dropped it into the water inside the vase of roses.

Turning to the frightened man, he asked softly, "May I know who you are? Methos told me there were two of you."

"Dhonncaidh," came the tremulous reply. Going towards the Watcher, the hustler asked, "How's Adam? Is he all right?"

"He's Immortal, remember?"

"Aye!" Dhonncaidh realized his mistake. "It's just tha' I was sa worried abou' him. I keep seein' him lyin' dead on the sidewalk."

"Well, he's very worried about you. That's why he sent me here."

"Joe, I dinna want ye ta get into trouble on ma account. The Watchers…"

"To hell with the Watchers!" Joe declared furiously. "My God! Look at you!"

"Looks can be deceivin'. 'Tis all right. I'm used ta this. But Duncan…"

Hearing that name, Joe held the hustler's arms. "Where's Duncan?"

"He's fine. They're keepin' him prisoner in a room on the top floor. They 'ave no' touched him." Reluctantly, Dhonncaidh admitted, "I've been keepin' Kinsey an' his clients busy, sa Duncan wad no' 'ave ta suffer ma fate as well."

Joe had difficulty choking back his tears at this reply. "You don't deserve this!"

"Don't I? Joe, ye've seen the mon I am. If it wasn't for ye, if ye hadn't shot me, I cad 'ave killed Richie."

"But you were overwhelmed by the Dark Quickening. Methos is right. Duncan may think of you as his dark side because you are the embodiment of suppressed, but longed for, desires. But this does not make you evil."

"I wish I cad believe ye!" cried Dhonncaidh, a tear falling down his cheek.

"I know how hard it is for you." The Watcher gave the prostitute a sad smile. "But even if Methos and I tell you this many times, you won't listen. It's Duncan's acceptance that you need. Am I correct?"

Biting down on his lower lip, Dhonncaidh slowly nodded. "He will no' accept me, Joe. But I understand how he feels, especially after all the trouble I caused him. Duncan…he e'en…"

The Watcher looked at the young man suspiciously. "He what? Did he do something to you?"

"No." However, that denial caused more tears to flow from the hustler's eyes. "Joe, tell Adam ta get Duncan ou' o' here. I will tell ye the ins an' outs o' this place. Duncan cannae survive here."

"We're getting both of you out of this damned place.!"

Dhonncaidh shook his head. "I will no' gae wi' ye. I belong here. I must stay."

"What for? To be abused by a bunch of sick perverts? I won't allow it!"

"There is nothin' ye cad do!" the hustler argued strongly. "If ye tak me as well, Kinsey will hunt us down. No matter where we hide, he will find us. Ma guid friend Jules is dead because o' me. I dinna want mair deaths on ma head, especially Duncan's, Adam's, or yours."

"But Dhonncaidh…"

"No mair arguments! PLEASE!" Wearily, Dhonncaidh sat at the table. "Come! I will tell ye how ta gae aroond this place. Ye're a Watcher wi' an excellent memory. I'm sure ye cad remember ma directions. Kinsey will kill ye if he finds a map on yer person."

Sitting beside him, Joe breathed in deeply.

It took an hour for the Watcher to memorize and repeat word for word the instructions the hustler had given him.

When Dhonncaidh was finally satisfied, he said, "Tha's it! I know ye will no' forget."

"Good!" Joe declared in relief, about to stand. "Just hang on, Dhonncaidh! No matter what you said, Adam and I'll spring you out of here."

Before he could reach for his cane, Dhonncaidh grabbed his hand. "Wait! We're no' finished yet."

"Sure we are! I know the layout of this place, don't I?"

"Aye! Howe'er, ye forgot somethin' verra important."

In the brief silence between them, Joe stared at the prostitute in confusion.

Then, in sudden realization, the Watcher's jaw dropped, aghast. "You have to be joking!"

There was such hardness in Dhonncaidh's eyes as he looked up at his friend. "Do I look like I'm jokin'?"

Joe let out a nervous laugh. "Surely you're not suggesting that…"

But there was no response from the hustler's handsome face, just that stony determination.

"You're dead serious!" Joe gasped out.

"Ye 'ave no choice," stated Dhonncaidh solemnly. "Kinsey has…expectations. If I dinna fulfill them, he will take Duncan for certain."

"But…but…I can't! I'm not…"

Dhonncaidh stood up, circling the Watcher like a mad dog. "Wha's it gonna tak ta set ye off, Joe? Wha' do I 'ave ta do?"

"Forget it!" the Watcher exclaimed. "I'm leaving!"

The hustler suddenly stood very still, his eyes shut tightly. Joe watched nervously as those broad hands closed into fists.

"No!" Dhonncaidh muttered, slowly opening his eyes. "Ye killed him! Ye an' yer Watcher friends! Ye murdered Jakob!"

Joe stepped back nervously. "Gollatti was killing Watchers. I had no choice."

"There is always a choice, but ye always pick the wrong one." Dhonncaidh went towards Joe. "How many o' ma friends 'ave ta die because o' ye? First, Charlie. Now, Jakob."

"I did what I had to do!" Joe raised his cane. "God, Dhonncaidh! Don\t come any closer! I don't want to hurt you!"

"But tha's wha' ye want ta do, isn't it? 'Coz if ye don't, I will!"

"Stay back! I'm warning you!"

As Dhonncaidh took another step closer, he muttered, "It's too late!", and the cane began to fall.

 

 

It was midnight when Joe stepped out of the club. For a moment, he paused before his car and glanced back. He knew that somewhere in those rooms lay the broken pieces of what had once been his best friend.

The Watcher found himself staring at his cane with abhorrence. To him, the thing seemed so heavy and loathsome all of a sudden.

_I must get a new cane!_ he decided firmly, though he doubted if a new walking stick could purge the memory of this night from his mind.

Shuddering, Joe quickly got into his car and drove off. Five blocks down, he stopped, letting Methos in, who stood waiting for him in the shadows.

"What took you so long?" Methos demanded, shutting the door as the Watcher wheeled away from the curb and into the street.

"I saw Dhonncaidh," was Joe's simple reply, not wanting to give his companion even a side glance.

"How is he?"

"He's fine, considering what he's had to endure these past few days."

"Dhonncaidh's the stronger one. I'm not surprised. What about Duncan?"

"Safe for now, but Dhonncaidh isn't sure he could hold off Kinsey and his dogs forever."

Methos gritted his teeth. "It won't take forever. We'll get them out."

A sigh escaped Joe's lips. "I’m afraid you're all alone in this, pal. I've done what I can."

The ancient looked at the Watcher in shock. "But Joe…I thought we're in this together?"

"My job is done. I'll make you a map of the club before I leave for Seacouver."

"I don't understand." Methos' eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Did something happen in there?"

Joe closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block out the memory of a firm body, and how welts formed on that bruised golden skin with every blow. And the blood. And the pleasure, that sweet, yet disgusting, pleasure. Most of all, he remembered that serene smile.

_"Now we're through, Joe,"_ the Watcher could still hear those words. _"If ye know wha's guid for ye, ye won't be comin' back."_

"JOE!"

There was a sudden bright flash, and Joe felt Methos grab the steering wheel, turning it, bringing them back to their right lane. Looking back, the Watcher saw that they almost collided with a van.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" Methos exclaimed.

"I'm sorry." Joe breathed deep and slow, hoping to stop the tremor in his voice. "I'll draw you a map now, then take me straight to the airport, Methos. Like I said, my work is done here."

"There's something you're not telling me," the ancient accused him.

"I made a promise to someone," was all Joe could say in finality. "I aim to keep it."

 

 

"Dhonncaidh?" a soft hesitant voice spoke in the darkness. "I know you don't want to talk to me, but I just want to…. Are you all right?"

"Concerned abou' me all o' a sudden, Duncan?" the hustler somehow managed a sarcastic retort. At his reply, Dhonncaidh felt the Highlander's pain lance through his heart. Feeling Duncan about to shrink back into silence, he said, "Forgive me. I dinna mean ta be rude. I'm fine…an' thank ye for yer concern."

"Are you sure? I felt you probing my mind earlier, before…it…started. What were you looking for?"

"Nothin'. I just wanted ta find ou' wha' I missed these months we've been apart."

"You were beaten, very hard," Duncan stated. "I know you tried to shield me from the brunt of it. I hope, whatever you found inside my mind, it helped…ease…the pain a bit."

"Aye, it did," Dhonncaidh lied between his teeth. It was difficult for him to hold back the agony the discovery of Jakob's death caused.

With much reluctance, Duncan admitted, "I wanted to see who was beating you, but you blocked me out of your mind. Who was it? There was so much anger inside you."

"'Twas nobody. Just one o' Kinsey's clients."

"Dhonncaidh, you can't go on like this!" There was genuine anguish and guilt in the Scot's voice. "I won't mind taking your place."

"An' do ye think ye can take it?" The prostitute glared at the dim outline in the far corner of the room. "'Tis better this way, Duncan, an' ye know it."

"At least let me share your pain." The Highlander added, "It would help ease my conscience."

"Why sud ye feel any guilt? I'm gettin' wha' I deserve!" Dhonncaidh lay down on the cold floor, wincing at the sore ache of his battered backside. "Sleep now, Duncan. This discussion is o'er. I 'ave another long day ahead o' me tomorrow."

At these words, silence fell between them. For awhile, the prostitute thought that the Scot had finally fallen asleep. But then, there was a soft answer.

"If you should falter, Dhonncaidh, I'm willing to take your place."

Somehow, the hustler knew that Duncan was speaking true.

As tears fell from his eyes, Dhonncaidh swore with conviction, _I will ne'er falter! Duncan, for yer sake, I will ne'er give in!_

 

 

**CONTINUED IN PART TWO**


	3. Part Two

 

**PART TWO**

 

"DHONNCAIDH!"

Methos' head jerked up, roused from restless slumber. He had fallen asleep at the kitchen table while he was studying the map Joe Dawson had made of Kinsey's club. Rubbing his numb arms, getting the circulation back into them, he pushed away from the table and got to his feet. He padded towards the window, staring out into the city. But his mind was greatly troubled by the nightmare he just had. Though it was slowly drifting back into his subconscious, Methos could still remember it very clearly.

In his dream, Dhonncaidh had come to him. The prostitute's face was haggard, and he carried himself as if his whole body was in agony. There was such weariness in the young man.

"Wha's takin' ye sa long, Adam?" Dhonncaidh had asked him.

"I have to plan this right," argued Methos. "This place is like a fortress, and I have no one to help me."

"Time is runnin' short for Duncan. Ye must get him ou' o here!"

"But what about you? I have no intention of leaving you with Kinsey."

Dhonncaidh gave him a sad smile, tears glistening in his eyes. "Ma time is almost o'er."

Methos frowned. "What do you mean?"

To his horror, the prostitute began to break up into ashes before his eyes, the wind blowing him away steadily.

"I'm tired, Adam," Dhonncaidh admitted. "I dinna 'ave the will ta fight anymore."

"Damn it, Dhonncaidh! Don't give up! You must fight back!"

Methos ran forward, hoping to stop his lover from disintegrating. However, his arms encountered only a billowing cloud of ash.

"I'm sarry, Adam, but 'tis tae late for me," the prostitute's voice whispered in the wind. "Save Duncan, afore he tae suffers ma fate."

"No!" Methos cried, trying to seize the ashes that floated around him. The wind, however, carried it away. "Don't leave me!"

"I love ye, Adam!" Dhonncaidh's voice echoed in the darkness. "When ye 'ave Duncan in yer arms, always remember me!"

"Dhonncaidh!" The ancient pounded his fist on the windowsill that his knuckles began to bleed.

_Curse you, Joe!_ he muttered under his breath. _How could you desert your friends like this?_

Striding back to the table, Methos glared at the map. He slammed his hands on the table top, head bowed low, his body shaking with controlled rage and frustration.

_What am I going to do? How am I going to get them out of there?_

The memory of the prostitute's smiling face filled his mind once more, followed by the Highlander's vulnerable visage, that soon the two images began to overlap.

"Gods, keep them safe!" the Old Man prayed to all the deities he had ever worshipped. "I beg you! Give them the strength to fight to survive until I come for them!"

 

 

Dhonncaidh was running through the hallway in sheer panic, the tinkling of the chains of his nipple clamps further jarring his frayed nerves. Every inch of his body was screaming in pain. His skin was blistered from the cigarettes and cigars Kinsey's customers used to burn him with. But it was the sight of those clubs that drove him into panic, those huge, thick wooden clubs the men intended to plunder his insides with.

When a strong hand grabbed his arm, the hustler screamed in terror and rage, and instinctively began to fight back. He struck out blindly, his fists connecting with a jaw, a cheek, a soft belly. Dhonncaidh would have fought his way out of the club. But Kinsey's voice over the intercom stopped him cold.

"You really disappoint me, Dhonncaidh," the evil Immortal declared, clucking his tongue.

Realizing what he had just done, the prostitute ceased fighting, staring up in horror at the camera mounted on the wall. Before he could get away, blows started raining down upon him. He shielded his head with his arms, cowering on the floor. Dhonncaidh just found himself being dragged back to the chamber he had escaped from. To his horror, Kinsey was waiting for him, accompanied by his more sadistic clients. Two of his men were holding Duncan.

"You didn't tell us there were two of them," one of his tormentors complained.

 "I made a deal with Dhonncaidh here that I wouldn't touch his twin if he behaved," Kinsey replied. "But after this, I might as well make a profit out of him as well."

Dhonncaidh threw himself at Kinsey's feet, groveling on the floor.

"I'm sarry, Kinsey!" the prostitute began to weep. "I did no' mean ta run. I became frightened. I just panicked. I swear it will no' happen again."

"A deal's a deal, Dhonncaidh," the evil Immortal reminded him.

"Kinsey, please!" the hustler begged him. "Punish me if ye must! But do no' hurt Duncan! 'Tis ma fault, no' his!"

Kinsey, however, motioned to his men standing guard at the door. Before Dhonncaidh knew what was happening, he was jerked to his feet, his wrists chained to a single ring bolted on the wall, his arms stretched high that he had to kneel and lean on the wall to support himself.

"No, Kinsey! Dinna do this! I beg ye!" A scream was wrenched from his throat as his legs were kicked wide apart, and a club was shoved up his ass. He vaguely heard Duncan cry out as well, shocked as he was by the sudden pain.

"I'm sure you'll like this sweet little morsel, gentlemen," said Kinsey as he made the Scot stand before his leather-clad clients. "Unlike Dhonncaidh here, he's got…minimal…experience. It seems the first time proved to be traumatic for him, and his lovely ass tends to tighten up like a vise when he's fucked."

One man complained, "If that's the case, I don't think I'd like my cock trapped inside him."

"Oh, it's not going to happen, I assure you. Duncan and his…disobedient…twin here share the same reactions. One can feel what is being done to the other. Now that I've got Dhonncaidh opened up here, you can fuck Duncan to your heart's content."

"How could we be sure of this?" another man queried, not convinced.

At these words, Kinsey pushed Duncan onto the bed. There was a leer on his face as he removed his clothes.

"Because, like I promised Dhonncaidh, I will be the first to take him," the evil Immortal declared as he straddled the poor Highlander, pinning him down to the bed.

 

 

In the next few hours, Dhonncaidh watched, horrified, as Kinsey and his clients took turns on the Highlander's flesh.

"Nooo!" he screamed himself hoarse. "Stop it! Dinna do this ta him! Dear God! Please stop!"

To his dismay, Duncan did not even fight back. He just lay passively on the bed, his dark brown eyes leaking with tears, as his body was brutally plundered. Duncan allowed Kinsey to turn his body this way and that, like a rag doll. His lips were swollen from those rough kisses and from the fellatio he was forced to perform. On the bed was a pool of fresh blood and semen that had poured from his defiled ass.

Dhonncaidh opened his mind to the Scot, wanting to take Duncan's pain. But the Highlander shut his mind to him, an impenetrable door he couldn't break into no matter how hard he tried.

"I'm sarry, Duncan!" the prostitute sobbed aloud. "I'm sa sarry!"

When it was finally over, Dhonncaidh breathed a sigh of relief, seeing Kinsey's men carry the Highlander out. Then, it was his turn. Kinsey and his clients were much harder on him, his body beaten mercilessly. But the guilt he felt overpowered the pain that was inflicted upon him.

As he was raped, Dhonncaidh saw one man whispering something in Kinsey's ear. Then, Kinsey turned to look at him, a wicked gleam in his eye. Somehow, the hustler knew that the Immortal was planning something, and he was certain it would destroy him and Duncan.

When the prostitute was returned to the attic room, Dhonncaidh immediately sought out Duncan. The Highlander sat quietly in his corner. In the darkness, he couldn't tell whether the Scot was looking at him or not.

Hesitantly, Dhonncaidh approached the dark figure. In his shame, he could not look at Duncan's face. He fell to his knees before the Highlander, pressing his forehead to Duncan's feet, weeping bitterly.

"'Tis all ma fault!" Dhonncaidh's voice shook with his tears. "I became weak! I did no' mean ta falter! I swear! The last thing I wanted was for them ta hurt ye! I'm sarry this happened! I'm truly sarry!"

Then, the prostitute felt gentle hands on his arms, pulling him up. He just found himself enfolded in a warm embrace, full lips kissing his brow in comfort.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Duncan whispered in his ear. "I condemned you to this, and don't you dare tell me that you deserve this. You don't – not from Kinsey, not from anybody, and certainly not from me."

"But Duncan…the things I did ta ye in the past. Arthur Merchant…"

"What is past is past. What is important is the here and now. We're in this together, Dhonncaidh. I will not allow you to suffer any more than you already have."

The hustler gazed questioningly at the Highlander. "Wha' are ye tryin' ta say, Duncan?"

Dhonncaidh's eyes widened in shock when Duncan pressed his lips to his. He was nearly overwhelmed by the warm emotions the Highlander was showering upon him through the link they shared.

"NOOO!" Dhonncaidh shouted, shoving the Scot back.

Duncan gaped at him, stunned. "Dhonncaidh?"

"I dinna deserve wha' ye're givin' me," the hustler wept bitterly. "After all the things I've done ta ye!"

"But I understand now. Your desires are my desires. I was wrong to have wished that you be apart from me. I was blind to the truth, that you are part of what makes me the man that I am. I shouldn't have been ashamed of you."

"Well, I'm ashamed o' myself – o' wha' I am now, an' most o' all, o' the misery an' sufferin' I put ye through. I dinna want ta cause trouble for ye anymore, Duncan. Wha' Kinsey did ta ye, wha' he's plannin' for us…tha's the last straw for me."

"Dhonncaidh, I don't understand. What do you mean 'what Kinsey's planning for us'?" Duncan tried to probe the hustler's mind, but the mental door was immediately shut to him.

"Ye dinna deserve ta 'ave me back, Duncan," said Dhonncaidh with great sorrow. "Ye may 'ave accepted me in yer heart, but I dinna want ta gae back ta ye. No' now, no' e'er."

"Do you know what you're saying?" Duncan exclaimed in shock. "Please don't do this, Dhonncaidh! I won't allow you!"

"There is nothin' ye can do. I 'ave made ma choice, an' I choose no' ta be reunited wi' ye." The hustler gave the Highlander a sad little smile. "Besides, we've lived apart for several months, an' ye've done well withou' me."

"And what about Methos? Have you forgotten about him? He loves us both."

Dhonncaidh sighed. "Once he has ye, he will forget abou' me. Ye will fill the love I cad no longer give him."

"I do not approve of this," the Scot said firmly.

"I'm sarry, Duncan, but this is ma decision. 'Tis the best thing for both o' us."

Dhonncaidh slowly went to his corner. Before he could sit down, he felt an arm on his shoulder. He gazed at Duncan's smiling face.

"Why are ye makin' it sa difficult for me?" he asked the Highlander.

"I'm not trying to," said Duncan. "All I want is to give you comfort, the same way you had comforted me. Please do not begrudge me this."

The prostitute saw the sincerity in those dark brown eyes. He found himself succumbing to the needs of his lonely heart. His knees trembled, suddenly weak. It was Duncan who helped him to lie down on the floor. Duncan embraced Dhonncaidh, murmuring soothing words in his ear. The hustler's arms automatically went around the Highlander's waist, cuddling close to him.

 Lulled by the stillness of the night, for once, the two men found the peace they thought they had lost in each other's arms, as they drifted off into slumber.

 

**CONTINUED IN PART THREE.**


	4. Part Three

 

**PART THREE**

 

A dark shadow stalked the dimly-lighted corridors of Kinsey’s club. Tucked within the folds of his duster was a well-honed sword. But he had no need yet for this large blade. The dagger in his hand was weapon enough. As back-up, he also had a machine gun slung at his back.

When he climbed through the window, the guard who stood nearby had his jugular promptly cut, and his large frame thrown down into the alley.

Swiftly, the wraith made his way up to the attic room, only to find it empty. There was an angry flash in his eye, realizing where its prisoners were taken.

With rage driving his every movement, he headed down to the Basement. Death has come to Kinsey’s club, and heaven help the poor soul who would dare to stand between him and the two men he came to save.

 

 

An hour before, Duncan and Dhonncaidh were hustled down the stairway, heading for the Basement.

Earlier than that, they had been given a most thorough cleansing, both inside and out. Their bodies were oiled, giving a golden sheen to their skins. They were then adorned with jewels. Dhonncaidh’s hair was braided with a strand of rubies. The tiny chains of his nipple clamps, as well as the circlets on his upper arms, had rubies and diamonds. Around his waist was a gold chain belt, attached to it was a special pouch of rubies, sheathing his cock. Duncan was similarly adorned, but instead of rubies, there were sapphires.

"What are they going to do to us, Dhonncaidh?" the Scot had asked him fearfully, to which the hustler only shrugged in reply. But, inwardly, he was just as afraid. The Basement. The ultimate chamber of perversions. Even he had only experienced a sample of what the Basement's exclusive clientele were capable of. He had no idea what Kinsey had planned for them in that dreaded room. Still, he tried to ease Duncan's fears as best as he could.

They reached the Basement soon enough, and their guards pushed them inside. Dhonncaidh pulled the Highlander close, not wanting him to see the implements of torture hanging on the walls. But he couldn't shield the Scot from the sight of the men waiting for them.

"Dhonncaidh?" Duncan's eyes were wide with terror, seeing the leather-clad men seated on the tall stools surrounding the circular stage in the middle of the room. Each man either held a paddle or a riding crop.

"Dinna be afraid!" the prostitute reassured him. "I will no' allow them ta do anythin' ta ye."

The two men were led to the stage, their guards forcing them to sit down on the narrow bed. Chills ran up their spines at the sight of the leers on the men's faces. One man even licked his lips suggestively.

Then, Dhonncaidh saw Kinsey step from the shadows, flanked by his bodyguards, going to his favorite seat. He turned to face his clients and smiled.

"We have a very special show for you tonight," he announced. "Two handsome young men to whet your appetites. Twins to be exact. Beautiful in their perfect symmetry."

 "Cut the bullshit, Kinsey!" Dhonncaidh interrupted him. "Wha' are ye goin' ta do ta us?"

The evil Immortal ignored him, however. "Haven't you ever fantasized about what you could do with twins as lovely as these?" Kinsey grinned wickedly. "Haven't you ever dreamed what it would be like to fuck and be fucked by someone who looks exactly like you?"

At these words, Dhonncaidh's jaw dropped in shock. As he wrapped his arms protectively around the Scot, he heard Duncan gasp

"Kinsey, ye sick son o' a bitch!" cried the hustler. "We're no' animals! Ye cannae force us ta do this!"

"But you have no choice," Kinsey pointed out the futility of their situation. "Besides, the people in this room paid a huge sum to see you two rut. I don't want you to disappoint them."

"GO TO HELL!" Dhonncaidh shouted, enraged, his hands reaching out to the evil Immortal, wanting to strangle him. "WE WILL NO' LOWER OURSELVES TA YER FILTH!"

Before he could reach Kinsey though, suddenly, there was a loud crack and Dhonncaidh screamed at the bite of the whip upon his back.

"DHONNCAIDH!" Duncan cried out, his body driven forward, not just by the sight of the hustler lying on the floor, but also by the same whip sting on his back.

But Dhonncaidh got to his knees and pulled the Highlander close to him, shielding Duncan's body, while he took the lashes, both physically and mentally.

"Dhonncaidh, please let me share your pain!" Duncan exclaimed, battering the mental door down.

Then, there was only pure agony, as the two men screamed, tears falling from their eyes, their bodies arching forward and back with every blow in a grotesque parody of sex.

"ENOUGH!" It was the Highlander who called out. "WE'LL DO ANYTHING YOU WANT!"

"Duncan, no!" the prostitute said hoarsely. "I can tak it!"

Duncan's eyes glistened as he gazed at Dhonncaidh. "Forgive me, but I know you can't."

Saying this, the Scot embraced the hustler, minding the wounds on his back, and kissed him tenderly, his tongue teasing the full lips. At once, Dhonncaidh wrenched away, staring at Duncan in disbelief.

As fresh tears trickled down his cheeks, Duncan whispered, "We have no choice, Dhonncaidh. I would rather that we do this, than letting them continue to hurt you this way."

Dhonncaidh bit his lower lip, feeling the Scot's resignation in his own heart. "We cannae do this!" he said stubbornly.

"Please, Dhonncaidh!"

The prostitute sighed in surrender. Slowly, he went towards Duncan until they stood face to face. Holding the Highlander's face in his hands, he too began to weep.

"I'll tak the lead," he said softly. "Ye do no' know wha' ta do. Let me be the one ta pleasure ye. I swear I will no' hurt ye."

Duncan nodded in reply.

Placing his hands around the Scot's neck, Dhonncaidh pulled him closer and closer until their lips met. The prostitute expertly caressed Duncan's luscious mouth with his lips and tongue, to which the Highlander responded in kind, tasting each other's moistness.

Duncan closed his eyes as Dhonncaidh nuzzled at the pulse of his throat, teeth nipping at his earlobe. He opened his mind fully to the hustler that he heard Dhonncaidh gasp.

"Wha' are ye doin'?" Dhonncaidh whispered in his ear.

"I…I just wanted you to feel what I feel," responded Duncan in turn.

As the prostitute descended to the curve of his shoulder, Dhonncaidh muttered, "Ye cannae do this, Duncan! Ye do no' know wha' cad happen!"

But Duncan pushed Dhonncaidh's head even lower. "I don't care."

The hustler pulled away for a second to ease the Scot down on the bed. Laving a slick trail from the shoulder to the broad chest, he sought out the pinched nubs, releasing the clamps with his teeth.

A moan escaped Duncan's lips as the hustler teased the bud to even greater tautness, his teeth playing with the hardening nubs. Dhonncaidh could feel a luscious tingle in his own clamped nipples as they too jutted up into sharp points.

"It's not enough," Duncan muttered.

Pushing the prostitute gently off him, he changed his position, that Dhonncaidh's chest hovered above his face. Taking the hustler's torso, Duncan eased the other man closer, removing the clamps, his lips enveloping the sweet buds of desire. Dhonncaidh moaned with pleasure. When he suckled on Duncan's tits, gasps escaped their lips, their minds overwhelmed by the double sensations.

With instinct guiding them, they slid lower and lower each other's bodies, savoring the silky skin with their tongues.

When at last they reached their aching rods, with their teeth, they unbuckled the sheaths from the gold chain belts and tore them off their rampaging erections.

Overcome by the intensity of the feelings aroused in them, as one, the two men devoured each other's cocks, letting the thick length slide down their throats. As Duncan sucked on the head of the prostitute's penis, Dhonncaidh let his throat muscles squeeze the length of the Highlander's erection. Already, they could taste the salty sweetness of the pre-come on their tongues. In unison, the two men began to thrust into each other's mouths, as they neared the climax.

Before they could come, however, Dhonncaidh released the Scot's erection abruptly, gripping the base tightly with his hand. Duncan cried out in need and frustration.

"Dhonncaidh, please!" Duncan whimpered, reaching out to the prostitute. "I want you! I need you!"

Not releasing the Highlander's aching erection, Dhonncaidh straddled the Scot's hips, positioning the head to his anus. Easing the muscles of his channel to relax, Dhonncaidh impaled himself on Duncan's rod, his hand gripping his own aching cock.

With measured strokes, Dhonncaidh milked the Highlander's shaft. He could feel Duncan's pleasure washing over him, threatening to take him over the edge and into the oblivion of a complete and total union.

"Dhonncaidh, I love you!" he heard Duncan mutter beneath him.

At these words, Dhonncaidh's eyes snapped open.

_No ye cannae love me! _he thought firmly, and he closed the mental link between them.

As Duncan stared up at the prostitute in horror, Dhonncaidh quickened the pace, his ass muscles clenching painfully around the Scot's cock. With a whimper, Duncan ejaculated forcefully inside the hustler.

When Dhonncaidh pulled away, Duncan looked at the other man in utter confusion. "What's wrong, Dhonncaidh? What is it? Why are you shutting me out?"

To his shock, the hustler flipped him over, hard hands pulling him to his hands and knees. Gritting his teeth, Dhonncaidh tore three small, round diamonds from the braid of his hair and, peeling back the hood of his cock, stuck them in the space between the skin and the rose-colored head, the abrasion of the jewels heightening the sensations already aroused in him. He knew Duncan would feel excruciating pain when he fucked him. But he had no choice. He had to let Duncan go once and for all, and this was the only way he knew how to get rid of him.

Duncan screamed in agony as Dhonncaidh penetrated him. The diamonds in the hustler's cock battered the tight ring of muscle, scraping the slick, smooth lining that, at once, blood began to flow.

"Dhonncaidh, you're hurting me!" cried Duncan. But the prostitute buried his fingers in the Scot's hair and yanked his head back, making breathing very difficult.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

Duncan couldn't see that Dhonncaidh was weeping behind him. "Because ye dinna deserve me!"

With a painful twist, Duncan jerked his head out of the hustler's grasp, leaving strands of hair in Dhonncaidh's hand.

"Is this what you want?" Duncan demanded between gasps. "Do you want to see me hurting? Whatever you do to me, you also do it to yourself!"

"But I can tak it! Ye can't!"

"You're just doing this because you want me to hate you!"

Dhonncaidh pounded hard into Duncan's body. "Well, is it working?"

One fierce thrust and Duncan sobbed, "Yes, I hate you! I hate you so much, that you refuse to see that I've accepted you now. That I DO love you!"

Suddenly, there was gunfire, and something crashed through the ceiling. Duncan felt the hustler pulled roughly from him, and then his head whipped to the side as if struck. He found himself yanked to his feet by a grim-faced Methos. Gingerly picking himself up from the floor, blood flowing from his mouth, was Dhonncaidh.

Seeing Kinsey's men reaching into their jacket pockets, Methos fired his gun on the walls above their heads.

"Put your guns down where I could see them!" he ordered. Grudgingly, the men dropped their guns on the floor. Turning as well to the leather-clad men, motioning to the far corner, Methos said, "Get over there!"

As the men hastened to the corner, Kinsey slowly strode forward.

"I'm Gilbert Kinsey," he introduced himself.

"Adam Pierson. I wish I could say I'm pleased to meet you."

"This place is rather crowded, don't you think?"

"I came to get my lover back, and to warn you, that if you dare come to take him again from me, your head is mine."

Kinsey smirked at him. "Do you even know how to handle him?"

"Probably a lot better than the way you've been treating him. Will you give me your word, Kinsey? Or maybe we could forget about the damned Rules right now?"

"I admire your bravado!"

It was Methos' turn to grin. "Believe me, Kinsey! You wouldn't want to try me!"

Something in Methos' eyes made the evil Immortal pause to think. Waving his hand dismissingly, he declared, "Oh, very well! You can leave, and I swear I won't take your lover again. But my jewels…"

Methos tore the jewelyy from Duncan's hair and body. "He won't be needing them!"

"We can't leave Dhonncaidh!" Duncan stammered, finding his voice.

The ancient stared at the Scot in stunned silence. "You saw what he did to you! Leave him, Duncan! He deserves to remain with the rest of the filth!"

"NO!" The Highlander yanked his arm out of Methos' grasp. Dropping down to his knees before the hustler, he begged, "Dhonncaidh, I can't leave you here! Please! You must come with me!"

Dhonncaidh, however, glared ferociously at Duncan. To the Highlander's dismay, the prostitute spat in his face. Before Methos could grab him, Dhonncaidh ran to Kinsey, sitting at the evil Immortal's feet. His hands clung tightly to Kinsey's legs.

"Adam's right," said Dhonncaidh in agreement. "I dinna belong in yer world. I wad rather stay here."

"Dhonncaidh, you can't mean that!"

The hustler pressed his cheek to Kinsey's leg, kissing his knee. "I love Kinsey, Duncan. Only he knows how ta mak love ta me, unlike Adam there. Ye deserve ta be together, though I doubt if ye two wad live happily e'er after." He grinned lasciviously at the ancient. "Maybe ye cad show Duncan some o' the things we did together. Teach him some o' ma techniques."

Methos looked at the prostitute with absolute disgust. "You're one sick bastard, Dhonncaidh! What you did to Duncan…. I could never forgive you! I wish I had killed you!"

"But ye cannae do it. Despite yer macho posturing, ye're still an ole softie." Dhonncaidh gazed at the two men sternly. "Gae on! I dinna want ta see yer miserable faces e'er again!"

"Dhonncaidh, no!" Duncan was about to argue, but Methos urged him to stand.

With much difficulty, the Old Man led the Scot out, eyeing Kinsey and his men. But none made any moves to stop them.

"I can't leave him, Methos!" cried Duncan, reaching out to the prostitute.

"Forget about him, Duncan!" the ancient muttered under his breath. "You don't need him. Thank God the magic stream purged him from you."

But as Methos closed the door behind them, he failed to see what the Highlander had glimpsed.

Dhonncaidh's head was bowed low, his jewel-adorned hair shielding his face. Duncan, however, saw how the prostitute's body shook as he wept.

As tears trickled down his cheeks, Duncan whispered, "I want him back, Methos! I want him back with me!"

 

**CONTINUED IN PART FOUR.**


	5. Part Four

 

**PART FOUR**

 

 

Two weeks have passed. Methos strolled out on the deck of the barge, where Duncan sat quietly, a robe wrapped around him. He was staring out at the bright lights of the city.

The ancient saw the younger man shudder visibly, pulling the robe tighter around his trembling form. Duncan pressed his face to the soft fabric.

"Duncan?" Methos asked gently. "Are you all right? Is it happening again?"

With a sigh, the Scot lowered the robe covering his face to reveal a darkening bruise on his left cheek.

"They're hurting him again," said Duncan with great sorrow.

"He brought it on himself. What I don't like is the way Dhonncaidh has been making you suffer along with him."

The Highlander looked up at the older man. "Dhonncaidh is not doing this deliberately. I could feel him trying to close the link between us. But…everyone has a limit to pain and suffering. He's no exception. When that happens, I take some of the pain for him, though he doesn't want me to. It's the least I could do for him."

Methos sat down beside the Scot. "Duncan? Are you angry with me that we left Dhonncaidh behind?"

"I don't know." Duncan shrugged. "Maybe. I wish you tried to convince him to come with us. He would do anything for you."

"After I witnessed what he did to you, I couldn't…" Methos bit his lower lip, unable to find the right words. "I just couldn't!"

"Would it have mattered if I had told you that it was I who begged Dhonncaidh to do THAT to me?"

The ancient gazed at the Highlander in surprise.

"They were hurting us, and he tried to protect me. He said he could take it. But I could feel that he couldn't. If I hadn't agreed to what Kinsey wanted us to do, Dhonncaidh would have died in my arms."

"Duncan.."

"It felt so…right…making love to him," Duncan admitted. "Even when he raped me, I knew he didn't mean to do it. Dhonncaidh just didn't want to cause me any more pain if we remained together. But it only made me love him more, and I learned that Dhonncaidh loves me just as much." With great hesitation, the Scot added, "Probably just as much as the depth of feeling we have for you."

Methos gazed at the starry sky. "I wish I could believe you. Dhonncaidh did something to Joe, you know. I don’t know what it was, but it's enough to cause Joe to leave Paris in a hurry. Then, there's the things that happened between us. How could I believe what you've been telling me about Dhonncaidh?"

"There's only one way." A heart-breaking smile formed on Duncan's face. "I'll show you."

 

 

Dhonncaidh lay naked and exhausted on his bed in his old room at the club. The gentle breeze from the open window dried the tears on his cheeks.

Suddenly, there was a tentative tap inside his mind. He did not have to guess who it was.

_Didn't I tell ye ta leave me alone, __Duncan__?_ he thought bitterly, about to let his anger traverse the link between them.

But that brief opening was apparently enough for the Highlander.

Dhonncaidh's eyes flew wide open when he felt invisible lips press upon his mouth. Before the hustler realized what was happening, the room suddenly faded, and he found himself at the barge, peering through Duncan's eyes, gazing up at Methos' smiling face.

"NO!" the hustler cried, shaking his head, wanting to close the link.

Methos, however, bent down and claimed his lips once more. At first, Dhonncaidh struggled to break free from the ancient's grip on his wrists and Duncan's hold on his mind. As tears began to stream down his cheeks, it was his aching heart that forced him to surrender.

For a moment, Methos pulled away to look into his lover's eyes. He found it disconcerting to be staring at Duncan's dark brown eyes. Though there was a tiny "I-told-you-so" twinkle in the pupils, the orbs were glistening with tears so full of longing. The ancient realized that the prostitute was indeed looking at him through Duncan's eyes.

"Why do both o' ye continue ta torment me like this?" Dhonncaidh declared bitterly through the Highlander's lips. "I told ye I dinna want ta see either o' ye e'er again!"

"Is that what you truly want, Dhonncaidh?"

The hustler couldn't speak. Instead, he closed his eyes and turned his face to the side. That small gesture was confirmation enough.

"I never knew," the Old Man gasped out. He pulled his lover into his embrace. "Oh God, Dhonncaidh! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry I hurt you!"

"'Tis no' yer fault. 'Twas ma decision. I wanted both o' ye ta be far away from me, so I wad ne'er put ye through this hell again. But…" Dhonncaidh burst into tears. "I ne'er thought losin' ye an' Duncan wad hurt sa much."

Then, Duncan spoke up, "You never lost us, Dhonncaidh. Am I right, Methos?"

Methos nodded. "I've always loved you, just as much as I love Duncan. The two of you comprise the whole of the man I love. Why should my feelings towards you be any lesser?"

"E'en if I was bad?" queried the hustler.

A smile formed on the Old Man's lips at that question, though there was an ache in his heart. It was painful for him to see the anguish of two disjointed souls reflected on that one handsome face.

A tear trickled from Methos' eye as he caressed the smooth cheek. "Yes, even if you were bad, though, believe me, you were not."

"Make love to me, Adam! Please make love to me!" There was such desperation in Dhonncaidh's voice as he hugged the ancient. Feeling the Highlander in a corner of his mind, the hustler smiled sheepishly. "'Tis sa selfish o' me. Adam, wad ye make love ta me an' Duncan?"

Methos kissed those soft lips. "I'd be happy too."

 

 

In the precious minutes that followed, Methos pleasured his two lovers. Though he kissed and caressed every inch of that firm body they shared, he elicited responses from the two lost souls that made up the man he once knew as Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.

There were moments when he could hear two voices speaking from that luscious mouth, and he was very happy, knowing that he was pleasing both men.

Duncan. Dhonncaidh. Both hungry for his love. Both freely giving everything they have to offer.

Soon, it seemed to Methos, their vocal responses were becoming one and the same. No longer could he hear two voices. For awhile there, he thought he had lost one of them. But the strength in that one voice told him that, for once, the two men were united, bound together by the love they shared for the ancient.

Their climax was explosive, their cries of ecstasy filling the night air, just as Methos filled the sweet flesh beneath him. He felt the slick come between their bellies.

Dhonncaidh kissed the Old Man lovingly. "I love ye Adam, Duncan! Merci beaucoup!"

Methos heard the hustler whisper something else, but he couldn't make out what he said. Then, Dhonncaidh was gone, leaving a bewildered Duncan in his arms.

"Dhonncaidh?" the Highlander mumbled, searching frantically for the mental presence of the prostitute. "DHONNCAIDH!"

Seeing how agitated the Scot was becoming, Methos asked, "Duncan, what's wrong?"

Did you hear what he said?"

"No, I…"

"Dhonncaidh said 'Au revoir!" Duncan began to weep. "Methos, I think he's going to kill himself!"

 

 

It took nearly the rest of the night for Methos to calm the Highlander's fears. However, he himself had doubts, that he couldn’t sleep a wink.

The ancient remembered the lovemaking they had, the desperation in Dhonncaidh, as if that night was his last.

Methos felt a chill run up his spine, recalling his dream.

"When ye 'ave Duncan in yer arms," Dhonncaidh told him, "always remember me."

Methos pressed his hands to his face. _Dhonncaidh, whatever it is that's running through that handsome head of yours, don't do it.. You don't know what your loss could do to __Duncan__._

The ancient spent the whole night brooding up a storm. In his turmoil, he didn't notice that he had drifted off into restless slumber.

When he woke up, it was high noon. As he sat up from the bed, he felt the empty space beside him. The Scot's absence jolted him to alertness. Donning a robe, Methos went to the bathroom first to check, but no one was inside.

Swiftly, the ancient ran outside, though he already knew he wouldn't find the Highlander. Methos closed his eyes, feeling his heart pounding like a sledgehammer. He didn't have to guess where Duncan had gone.

__

** CONTINUED IN PART FIVE **


	6. Part Five

 

**PART FIVE**

Down in the Basement, Dhonncaidh danced with the fervor of a man who knew that this would be his final curtain call. He stole a glance at the hidden room where, inside, Gilbert Kinsey was filming his farewell performance. It felt strange to him, the knowledge that his death would be immortalized on a lengthy strip of celluloid.

Dhonncaidh no longer wished to hide the pain in his heart. He bared his body and soul to the men who came to see him on this his last night. He wished that they would, at least, show some care, a small measure of concern for his anguish. But their selfishness and perverted lust only desired his complete surrender, and his life.

The hustler remembered how Kinsey came to him last night, before Duncan chose to meld with his mind. It was the first time he saw sorrow and regret on the Immortal's face.

 "A client of mine paid me handsomely to do a film," Kinsey had told him.

Dhonncaidh didn't even have to ask what kind of film. Kinsey just placed a small glass pellet in his hand.

The evil Immortal caressed his cheek. "Believe me, I don't want to do this, Dhonncaidh. In a way, I do love you. But, you have caused me so much trouble. I don't want you giving my other employees any wrong ideas."

"'Tis all right, Kinsey," he had answered as he stared blankly at the pellet. "Ye're actually doin' me a big favor. I'm verra tired. I just want it all ta end."

"I never wanted to hurt you."

"Maybe if ye keep on sayin' tha', ye'll start ta believe it." Dhonncaidh had sighed. "When do ye want me ta break this?"

Dhonncaidh was brought back to the present by the feel of cool steel along the crevice of his buttocks. His tongue tentatively touched the pellet tucked under the inner lining of his cheek. The hustler wondered if he should break it now, just to spite Kinsey. But in a way, he wanted to prolong his life a bit, until that moment when the men would come up on stage and force themselves upon him one by one.

That was what Kinsey's client wanted. A snuff film. A film of him being raped to death.

Dhonncaidh wanted to laugh at that thought. He has never heard of anyone being raped to death. In fact, he himself was going to die, not from his gang rape, but from cyanide poisoning.

Instead, tears streamed from his eyes. As he ran his hands over his oiled body, Dhonncaidh remembered Duncan's love and generosity of spirit, when he allowed the hustler to share and experience exquisite pleasure at the hands of the ancient. He remembered Adam's touch, his kisses on his skin.

That was what he wanted more than anything else in the world. He wanted to die with that memory etched inside his mind and heart.

_Let the men take me,_ he thought. _Instead of their faces, I shall see Duncan and Adam. When I break the pellet between my teeth and taste the bitterness of cyanide on my tongue, I'll remember how it felt to be truly loved._

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Dhonncaidh noticed that the audience's attention was diverted elsewhere. At once, he ceased dancing, seeing the Highlander standing at the back of the room.

"Duncan?" he whispered in shock and disbelief.

Though he knew that the Scot heard him, Duncan chose not to answer. Instead, with languorous grace, he started to peel off his clothing one by one.

The Highlander let the duster slide down his arms, and threw it onto the stage, creating a dull thud as it landed on the floor. Dhonncaidh saw a glint of steel within the folds of the duster. The katana!

Swaying his hips to the music, Duncan ripped his T-shirt apart, baring his firm body. Pausing before one man, he laid his foot on the man's thigh. Eagerly, he removed the Scot's shoes for him. Moving closer, Duncan pulled down the zipper of his jeans, and placed the man's sweating hands on his waistband. With trembling fingers, the man slowly yanked the jeans down Duncan's long legs. Turning his back to the man, the Highlander bent forward, baring his buttocks to him. Dhonncaidh winced, feeling the sting of a sharp slap upon that rounded rump.

Duncan went up the stairs, joining Dhonncaidh on stage. He took the confused hustler's hands, leading him into a most seductive dance. Dhonncaidh shuddered all over as Duncan ran long, fluttering fingers over the sensitive spots of his body. The Scot came up behind him, pulling him close, that he could feel Duncan's cock nudging the crack of his ass, firm hands urging his hips to sway with sensuous grace. Those same hands went up to fondle his nipples, eliciting a gasp from the hustler's lips. When Duncan's fingers descended and gripped his erection, Dhonncaidh practically flew from the Highlander's grasp.

"Wha' are ye doin' here, Duncan?" he demanded, covering his nakedness with his tremulous hands. "Why did ye come back?"

For a moment, their eyes met – bewildered dark brown orbs gazing at calm ones of the same color. Then, Duncan raised his right hand, placing it at the back of the hustler's neck. As he played with Dhonncaidh's hair, a warm, almost playful, smile formed on his face. Hesitantly, Dhonncaidh laid his left hand on the Highlander's shoulder.

"I missed you, Dhonncaidh," Duncan said sincerely, a glimmer of tears in his eyes. "That's why I came back. God, I missed you so much!"

As the Scot slowly leaned forward, Dhonncaidh was able to exclaim, "I missed you too, Duncan!", before the Highlander claimed his lips.

Duncan's probing tongue found the cyanide pellet, and he took it into his own mouth. Parting briefly, he spat out the pellet.

Gently, he pushed the prostitute down to the floor, relishing the silky skin of the man beneath him with his lips and tongue. Duncan suckled hungrily on the rose nipples, feeling his own tits rise with equal ardor.

Resistance was furthest from Dhonncaidh's mind, as he allowed the Scot's love to consume him. Indeed, it was Duncan's turn to take the lead, skillfully drawing out the passions inside him. It was the ultimate masturbatory experience. Their pleasures were so much the same that, soon, they could not distinguish which were the wants and desires of the other.

Dhonncaidh felt the Highlander's knees on either side of his hips.

Taking the prostitute's cock in his hand, Duncan said, "It's my turn now!"

A whimper escaped Dhonncaidh's lips as his aching erection slid into a smooth, moist tunnel. With graceful ease, Duncan bucked on that hard rod, driving it deeper inside him, while his right hand pumped his own aching cock.

Dhonncaidh was about to brush that hand away and take Duncan's erection in his own grasp, when his fingers went right through the Scot. To his horror, Duncan was gradually fading before his eyes.

"Duncan, no!" he cried, tears falling from his eyes. "Ye must stop this! I'm losin' ye!"

The Highlander gasped as he buried Dhonncaidh's cock inside him to the hilt, his channel squeezing on the shaft, drawing the juices out.

Dhonncaidh screamed as he came, his head lolling back. Seconds after, Duncan spurted his essence on the hustler's belly.

Seeing that Duncan was nothing more than a ghost, Dhonncaidh sobbed, "Duncan! I dinna want ta lose ye!"

But there was a reassuring smile on the Highlander's face as he slowly bent down. "You'll never lose me, Dhonncaidh. We'll always be together, for how long life will be for us."

There was a gentle brush of soft lips on his mouth as Duncan vanished, joining with him. A delicious tingle filled his body, each cell rejoicing, welcoming that which was lost. When his eyelids fluttered open, at first, he was a bit disoriented. It seemed as if he was looking through two pairs of eyes. Then, the image merged as one, his vision becoming crystal clear. He could feel the bruises and cuts on his body healing, as the power of the Quickening kicked in.

Like Adam born, he stood up, surveying the startled, frightened faces around him. He felt the distinct buzz of the Immortal inside the backroom. With measured slowness, he reached down to his discarded duster, and pulled out his katana.

Pointing the blade at the hidden room, he announced, "I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, and I'm coming for you, Kinsey!"

 

 

Gilbert Kinsey was running breathlessly up the staircase, fleeing from the avenging angel who was out to get him.

"I'm Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," the Immortal, who had once been his two whores, had introduced himself.

If he had been just Dhonncaidh the hustler, or Duncan his vulnerable twin, maybe he would stand a chance. But now, he was Duncan MacLeod, the Highlander. The formidable Immortal who has taken the heads of such fiercesome adversaries as Kalas, Xavier St. Cloud and many more. Kinsey knew he was powerless against the Scot's might.

Behind him, the evil Immortal heard gunshots, but Kinsey knew that bullets would not stop MacLeod. His men would probably be dead by now, especially those who had also partaken of the Highlander's flesh. All he could do was run, to get away, to go to a place where MacLeod would never find him.

Instead, Kinsey ran into someone much worse in the upper hallway.

"And where do you think you're going, Kinsey?" asked the Immortal, who was brandishing a slim, sharp blade in his hand.

"Pierson!" Kinsey panted for breath. "I'll give you anything you want! Name your price! Just please spare my life! Let me pass!"

The Immortal burst into sardonic laughter. "You certainly have the nerve to beg for your miserable life! How many times have Dhonncaidh and Duncan begged you not to rape them?" He gripped his sword's hilt tightly with both hands. "Draw your blade!"

Kinsey was trembling all over, close to tears, as he pulled out his sword. "Pierson! I beg you!"

"Although Adam Pierson is the name I chose for this life, that is NOT my true name. I am Methos." The ancient's eyes shone like burnished gold as he raised his Ivanhoe. "I am Death!"

 

 

Duncan had dispatched Kinsey's men easily. As for the evil Immortal's clients, they had all fled like terrified rats through the back door. But it was Kinsey the Scot wanted.

Finding the backroom empty, the Highlander hurried to the upper floor. Reaching it, however, he was greeted by the sound of explosions, and the flashes of lightning.

The Scot was shaking his head in dismay as he entered the hallway, his hand tightening around the hilt of his blood-stained sword.

A few feet ahead of him, Methos was kneeling on the floor in weariness, having just absorbed Kinsey's Quickening. At his feet lay the Immortal's headless body.

Sensing his presence, the Old Man looked up, surprise on his face. "Duncan? Mac, is that you?"

"Yes, it's me!" Unable to control his rage and frustration, Duncan demanded, "Why did you kill him, Methos? Kinsey was supposed to be mine! I wanted him to pay for what he did to me! I wanted him to die at MY hands!"

Methos gazed coldly at the Scot. "Kinsey's head, his Quickening belong to me. They were never meant to be yours to begin with."

"How dare you say this to me!" The Scot was furious, his knuckles turning white from the tight grip on his sword's hilt. "You had no right to do this! You stole my vengeance from me!"

"I have every right to his head and his Quickening. The first time he laid his hands on you, I already staked my claim on him."

Duncan looked Methos straight in the eye. "Have you forgotten that you had also touched me? That first time between the two of us, you had raped me! Tell me, Methos! Who has staked a claim on YOUR head?"

At this query, the Old Man's features softened, revealing the pain and guilt in his green gold eyes.

"Probably he or she will be one of the thousands of souls I had wronged in the past," he answered truthfully. "I know one thing for certain though. You won't be one of them."

"How could you be sure of this?"

Methos got up on wobbly legs. As he started to walk away, he simply stated, "I'm not."

 

**CONTINUED IN PART SIX.**


	7. Part Six

 

**PART SIX**      

 

Duncan lay on the deck of the barge, lost in his thoughts, as he stared at the full moon. He didn't even bother to sit up when the familiar aura alerted him to the presence of another Immortal. Soft, hesitant footsteps paused a few feet away from him.

"How're you doin', Methos?" Duncan asked without looking at the ancient.

"I think I should be the one asking you that," came a quiet, weary reply.

"I'm fine, considering what I had to go through these past few months. It's going to take a much longer time for me to...get over this. Now that I'm whole again.... I never knew how much Dhonncaidh had suffered. Then there's what happened between you and I."

"I know. I'm the one who has to live with it." Methos sighed. "Having Kinsey inside me is certainly not making it any easier for me."

"So you saw everything that he did to me."

"Yes. Damn, if he hasn't quieted down. He's been filling my head with so many crazy ideas."

"Ideas that involve me?"

The ancient grudgingly admitted, "Yes. One of those ideas involved..."

"A cane," Duncan finished it for him. "I know. I guess he got that idea from someone."

Methos gave the Scot a suspicious glance. "Mac, surely you're not talking about..."

"What do you think?"

The Old Man just found himself plopping down beside the Highlander. "No wonder Joe was in such a hurry to leave."

"I know Joe and I have had some disagreements in the past, but I had no right to do that to him. That's why I'm going back to Seacouver tomorrow, to set things right between us."

Silence fell between the two men. Unable to take the silence, Duncan, at last, turned to the ancient. "Well?"

"'Well' what?" Methos queried in return.

"I think you're supposed to ask 'What about the two of us?'"

"I don't have to ask. I already know the answer."

"And that is?"

"That we must give each other some time, some breathing space. So we could think things through."

Duncan sat up. "Methos, please don't be angry. I just want..."

"It's all right. I understand. I need the distance as much as you. Maybe some peace and quiet up in Tibet would help me to put Kinsey's Quickening under control."

"You know, you don't have to go all the way to Tibet to do that. The only thing you have to do is to fuck me."

There was a frown on Methos' brow as he stared at the younger Immortal, surprised at the Scot's bluntness. At first, he thought Duncan meant it as a joke or a form of sarcasm. But there was only a somber frankness on that handsome face.

"Come on, Methos!" Duncan urged him. "Kinsey wants to fuck me. I know YOU want to fuck me. Why do you want to make it so difficult on yourself?"

A sad little smile quirked up the corners of Methos' lips. Leaning forward, he kissed Duncan tenderly. It was the Highlander's turn to be surprised when the Old Man stood up, instead of enfolding him in the expected passionate embrace.

"Because I don't want to fuck you, MacLeod," the ancient stated firmly. "I want to make love to you, and I can't do that while I'm in this state. Surely you know the difference between the two."

Duncan smiled warmly at the Old Man. "Yes, I do."

Tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat, Methos waved as he strode down the gangplank. "Maybe later, MacLeod."

"Aye, Adam!" Duncan called after him. "Maybe later."

 

 

**THE END.**

 


End file.
